Wouldn't you know it, I lay bare my big plan to banish all food after 8 pm and then that very night I go out and gorge on a lavish post-movie meal of thick and rich Indian food that didn't even get started until ten and then kept going and going until the late, late hour of cake o'clock -- Jim and bona fide Swede Dick brought Kristin a sublime and gargantuan and daintily green princess cake (apparently Tiburon secretly harbors a Swedish bakery?), and I ate a huge slice and maybe even a few bite's of Matt's? Luckily tonight I'm going out with my dad and stepmother, who are all fired up to pluck me off the 5:20 ferry and race immediately to dinner. Hopefully we'll all be in bed well before dark!

The movie (Forty Guns) was pretty amazing, pumped full of aggressive gun innuendo (a la "I want to feel the weight of your gun in my hand" and "he put that bullet exactly where he wanted it"), a "tornado as euphemism for post-50 frontier sex" scene, plus a long musical number with gunslingers sudsing up in barrel bathtubs while being serenaded by a crooner crooning "The Woman with the Whip." So that was good.

Marbles also had an exciting day, shouting, shouting, shouting the entire seven-block walk to and from the vet. While at the vet itself, however, she went eerily silent and concentrated all her energies on crouching and shedding and sweating (the hair all around her ever-pinkening nose got all wet).

Diagnosis? Marbles is nine healthy pounds of "so cute," according to the vet. We also saw two chihuahua brother puppies! One of which was named "Mr. Pickles"!

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)